


A question of intelligence

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Computers, Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26696251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Short Affair challenge. Prompts: Jacket, greenAfter the Ultimate Computer Affair, Illya has been thinking...
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin & Napoleon Solo, Napoleon Solo/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	A question of intelligence

Called to Mr Waverly’s lair, agents Solo and Kuryakin sat at the circular table waiting for him to come to the table himself.

Waverly was standing at the ticker-tape machine reading a long strip of tape that had just noisily issued from it. When it tore and fell to the floor, he growled and came to sit down. Ignoring their raised eyebrows, he drew a file towards him and then pushed it round to the two men. Kuryakin looked over his partner’s shoulder to read it.

When they looked up again, Waverly dismissed them saying, “You must retrieve all the relevant documentation and be away as soon as possible. Oh, before you go, would one of you pick up that ticker tape?”

Kuryakin brought it to him neatly coiled.

<>

“You’re better at finding information in the files – I’ll let you do that,” said Napoleon.

“And what will your contribution to preparations be?”

“I’ll check … well, the usual things.”

“Like how to keep your memory green in the stenographers’ room.”

“Yeah, No! Well, that too, but other stuff. My suits and shirts – that kind of thing.”

Illya stifled a terse remark and stalked out.

On his return sometime later, bearing a folder of notes, maps and diagrams, he beheld his partner lying back in his chair, his feet on his desk, smiling seductively into the telephone receiver as he discussed future plans with one of his conquests.

Illya dropped the folder on Napoleon’s desk and pressed the receiver cradle down, closing the call. “I have here,” he announced, “everything we need.”

Napoleon glared up at him. “I was just about to get everything _I_ need,” he snapped.

Illya continued without paying any attention, “You know, I think our computers should be upgraded so that we could have this information at our fingertips rather than in a dark basement.” He looked down at his partner lounging back in his chair and added meaningfully, “It would save so much time and effort – and if Thrush can build an ultimate computer, why can’t we?”

“Why would you want something so inhumanly intelligent? It’s unnatural.”

“I very much doubt that there was anything _in_ humanly intelligent about it. It was programmed by humans,” said Illya. “I’ve been looking into the subject and it seems to me…”

“Isn’t it time we went?” said Napoleon, cutting him off before he could get started. If he didn’t there would be no stopping him – and as it was likely he would start up again on the way Napoleon planned to spend the journey asleep. He knew Illya _would_ have all the facts at his fingertips by the time they arrived – the man was as inhuman in that respect as that blasted computer.

<><>

On the way back from the mission, Illya demonstrated the retentive powers of his memory. In spare moments, he had been thinking about artificial intelligence as he called it and wanted to share his conclusions.

“A computer just stores information, “he said. “When human beings feed information into it, it can only answer the questions it is programmed for.” Napoleon ignored him, or tried to. “So without the human brain’s immense capacity for subtle thought and especially its capacity for intuitive analysis, it can’t make reliable deductions, or judgements, let alone leaps of imagination. Right?”

Napoleon yawned. “Right what?”

Illya sighed. “It doesn’t know how to think and doesn’t have enough to think with.”

Napoleon responded, despite himself. “What about Thrush’s ‘ultimate’ computer? Didn’t that know everything that needed to be known?” 

“How could it? Even if it held all the words in every book written, it wouldn’t be enough because _they_ aren’t. And it can’t reason without man’s thinking ability.”

“Or woman’s,” Napoleon interjected.

“Furthermore,” said Illya, not to be deflected and getting into his stride, “destroying that machine merely postponed the inevitable invention of a better one.”

“Oh?”

“So, rather than destroying it, we should have tried to retrieve its components – don’t you think?”

Napoleon looked blank. Illya tried again, “Look at that ticker tape machine – why not have reports coming up on a screen rather than falling on the floor?”

“It would certainly save paper,” Napoleon remarked, seeming to agree.

“And you wouldn’t need all these metal filing cabinets cluttering up the place. You might save money too, by not needing so many secretaries typing up reports.”

“Now hold on! That’s going too far, Illya.”

“Not as far as you go with those ladies, Napoleon.”

Napoleon straightened the sleeve of his jacket. “My arrangements are perfectly consensual, I’ll have you know.”

“You’ll see, Napoleon. In a few years’ time, everyone will be using them – computers, I mean.”

“Well, when someone starts making them a commercial proposition, maybe I’ll take an interest. After all, I’ll need a hobby when I retire.”

<><><><>


End file.
